Paper Cuts
by Gandalf3213
Summary: It's not one big thing that makes Alec's relationship with Magnus so hard. It's a million little paper cuts every day. Paper cuts like his father disowning him, like the betrayal of a friend, like being beaten by something wearing Jace's face. A two-shot collection of some of these cuts.
1. Chapter 1

"_It's not like it's one big bad thing. It's a lot of little invisible things…It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's a million little paper cuts every day." __**Alec Lightwood, City of Lost Souls**_

.***.

**i.**

They were used to New York, and its don't-ask-don't-tell type sensibilities, where a man kissing a man on the street would make people grumble only if they had to step to one side to go around you. Magnus, with the sparkles in his hair, the sequins on his shirt, his orange pants, drew no more stares than the man next to him, mostly because New Yorkers were too intent on themselves to care much about the millions of strangers around them.

Alec had never traveled outside of the United States, unless you counted Idris, and he didn't. His place was in New York, and there were more than enough demons to take care of in New York to keep him busy. He was wary in Paris, in Florence and Madrid and Munich, but by the time he and Magnus reached Istanbul on their world tour, he'd gotten used to Magnus twining their hands together on the ancient streets and kissing his boyfriend under arches of dusty castles. He'd gotten so used to it that he began to initiate the interaction, something the unsure, rule-abiding boy back in New York, before the Mortal War, would never have done.

So they were in Istanbul, and Magnus was examining a deeply purple scarf, "Do you like Turkey?"

"Second favorite lunch meat, after chicken."

Magnus elbowed him in the ribs and Alec laughed, flicking his too-long bangs out of his eyes. It was the ten or twentieth time he'd made a similar joke since Magnus said he wanted to go further East and show him the civilizations that thrived in deserts and sand. Magnus rolled his eyes and didn't deign to respond, instead saying, "Will you wear this scarf if I got it for you?"

Alec ran the fabric through his fingers. It was indescribably soft, "Sure. But it'll look better on you."

"I beg to disagree."

"It matches your eyes."

There was something breathtaking about Magnus's smile, and Alec initiated the kiss for one of the very few times in their relationship, ignoring the bustling bazaar around them, ignoring the jostling bodies of strangers. When he pulled back, the bright purple of Magnus's eyes looked were surprised, which he loved, but they were also troubled. "Alec…"

"You should leave," the man behind the stand with the rainbow of scarves spoke in heavily accented English. Alec looked at him, too surprised to react.

Magnus put a soft hand on Alec's arm. "We don't want any trouble," he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Come on."

But Alec found himself unable to move. He was quick and deadly, he could ruin this bazaar in a few minutes, but the man's frankly disgusted gaze was holding him in place. And then Magnus's head was on his shoulder, his mouth right next to his ear, and three words curled up to him. "Alec, love. Please."

"Leave," the man leaned over the counter, and Magnus was tall and Alec taller, but this man towered over them, his fingers curling into a fist. "Now."

The crowd had stopped being an indecipherable mass and had formed a ring around them, a ring that was closing in. Magnus tugged again and Alec finally blinked, hard, to get away from those hate-filled eyes.

When they were far away, in the room they'd rented on the outskirts of the city, Alec sat on the bed and Magnus knelt in front of him. "I'm sorry. I should have told you that perhaps PDAs were not the best idea here." He reached a hand up and stroked a thumb against Alec's cheek. "Oh love, please don't cry."

Alec hadn't felt the tears dripping down his cheek and tried very hard to stop them. Magnus got onto the bed and held him as he shook. It took a very long time for Alec to initiate a kiss again.

**ii.**

He put on his coat, his mind still back in the Clave meeting even as he eyed the drizzly day that waited for him outside.

"I wouldn't have thought that was your jacket, Lightwood. Did you borrow it from Izzy?"

Alec turned to face Jonah Penhallow, his hands unconsciously brushing down the front of his jacket. It was Magnus's of course, a dark blue velvet with large silver buttons down the front. Alec had admired it once and Magnus had promptly taken it off and given it to him. Alec wondered if other couples were swapping clothes as often as he was with his boyfriend. All he wanted to do was get back to Magnus and tell him about another horrible meeting, but Jonah was still standing there, wanting something from him. He wracked his brain for something polite to say, and settled on, "How's your brother, Jonah?"

Noah Penhallow, a quiet, artistic, logical boy, and a good friend of Alec's, had been injured in the Mortal War. Jonah had four years on the boys, and was known for his excellent battle skills and furious temper.

Jonah's eyes narrowed. "He's recovering. The high warlock of Brooklyn was finally able to reverse the effects of the spell. For an exorbitant price." He took a step forward and Alec suddenly wished for his bow. "You know him, don't you? Magnus Bane? Isn't he your…special friend?"

The other members of the Clave had already filed out or portaled away. They were alone in the hallway. Alec desperately wanted to get home and be away from Jonah and his cruel, laughing eyes. "I'm glad Noah is all right. Perhaps he can resume his spot on the council soon."

Jonah took another step forward, dropping down, probably subconsciously, into a fighting stance. Alec mirrored it warily. Jonah was a formidable opponent at the best of times, and his reference to the fact that the seat in the Clave belonged to rational Noah and not the older, impetuous brother had turned this into not the best of times.

"You know the Clave thinks you're a joke," Jonah spit. Alec kept his expression carefully neutral. Of course he knew this. Whenever he stood up to speak, the other members looked through him as if he weren't there. "You're a _freak_, Lightwood." His hand shot out and Alec dodged clumsily, the punch landing on his ear. "You even fight like a fag."

"If you're looking for a fight, we can go outside, Jonah," Alec suggested. He wanted to fight now. He wanted Jonah to hit him again, so he could show him that even fags could pack a hell of a punch.

Straightening up, Jonah laughed, shaking his head. "You're not worth it." He turned to go and Alec belatedly realized his hands had curled into fists to match Jonah's. He stared at them, and didn't see the punch coming.

When he got back to the apartment, Magnus ran a hand over his split lip and Alec said that someone had knocked him into a poll while he was walking down the street. Magnus didn't believe him, but didn't say anything else about it.

**iii.**

Izzy hadn't stepped foot into the kitchen, thank god, because this dinner was going to be awkward enough without Izzy's bad cooking to apologize for. Their father was coming home from Idris for the first time in two months. Maryse had asked (ordered) the children to a family dinner and, sensing the next question, said, "And let's have a family dinner, all right? I think Clary and Simon will survive a night without you." She didn't mention Magnus.

"I can come anyway," Magnus said when Alec had left in the early afternoon. "I'm an excellent cook."

He was, actually, and Alec desperately wanted Magnus there. It would be the first time the "family" would be around a dinner table without Max. "Dad's not…it'll be hard enough without you there to remind him. I'll see you tonight." He gave Magnus a distracted kiss and was surprised to find hands circling around his back, unwilling to let go.

Magnus rested his head on Alec's shoulder. "If he hurts you…"

"He's still my father, Magnus," Alec said, pulling away. "He won't do anything. Not with Izzy and Jace there." He disentangled himself from the embrace, suddenly angry.

"Sometimes fathers are the people who can cut you the deepest," Magnus said, standing stiffly, "Just be careful."

"Just because your father –"

"Don't you talk about my father!" Electricity crackled in Magnus's hands, jumping towards Alec.

Alec snorted and turned towards the door. "I might stay at home tonight," he said, "Don't wait up."

Now, as his father was staring at him, he wished he hadn't left things with Magnus on an argument. Izzy had just finished recounting a story of a lost siren stuck in the Hudson River that she'd killed after it lured two men to their deaths. The fight had involved a near drowning and particularly good whip work. Robert Lightwood turned towards the boys, who kept their eyes on their steaks. "And are you keeping up with your patrolling? Jace?"

"Bagged a rogue vamp yesterday," Jace said, nodding. "I mean, Clary and Simon helped a bit, but I'm still convinced she took one look at me and gave herself up willingly."

Robert nodded and flicked his eyes to Alec. "Your mother tells me you've rarely been in the Institute, Alec. Have you been skirting your duties?"

"No, sir," Alec said quickly, "I just…am out a lot."

"And you don't have any hunting stories?"

Alec winced and Jace jumped in, and Alec wondered if he knew his hand was drifting towards the _parabatai_ mark under his collarbone. "Alec found all the kills. And he got the spell to exorcise that girl in Queens." He grinned at Alec, who made his lips twitch into a thin smile of thanks, "This steak is really great, too, Alec."

Robert ignored this last bit of information. His own steak was untouched. "Research," Robert said, slowly, "My oldest son is holed up doing _research_? Can't your warlock lover just give you the information? Isn't he a thousand years old?"

The air in the room seemed to turn to ice and Alec tried to get his heartbeat under control. His father was staring at him as if he were a stranger he disapproved of. "Magnus has his own business to conduct. And yes, I've been doing mainly research. The library is completely unorganized. I've been trying to put it into a system by –"

"And you do this all in Brooklyn?" his father said, cutting him off again.

"Well, yeah. Mainly in Brooklyn. It's quieter there. And I like the company."

"The aforementioned eight hundred year old warlock lover?"

"To be fair," Jace jumped in again, putting a hand on Alec's, holding his friend in place even as Alec scraped his chair back, wanting to stand. Maryse was doing the same with her husband. Izzy looked shell-shocked. "Izzy and I haven't been at the Institute a lot either."

"That's not the point," Robert snapped.

"Then what is the point?" Alec asked, shrugging off Jace's hand. "You don't approve of Magnus?" He was standing now, his mouth full of the same bitter taste it had just before a battle. Adrenaline. "Or you don't approve of me?"

Robert Lightwood rose, too, placing his hands on either side of the head of the table. "Every day I have people come to talk to me, and they all ask whether I know if my eldest has taken up residence with the high warlock of Brooklyn. They think you're unstable. They think you're being taken in by a Downworlder, manipulated. They think you are untrustworthy."

"Magnus has helped us! At great personal risk!" Alec shouted, the words exploding out of him.

Robert moved fast and pushed Alec up against a wall. "Don't you _dare_ raise your voice at me! I'm trying to get you to _think_. You're putting my already very precarious position at risk. And I will not stand for it."

Alec glared at his father defiantly, not even given him the pleasure of trying to twist away from the bruising grip. Jace and Izzy were getting up from the table and Maryse was already there, "Robert, let's just have a nice dinner."

Jace looked ready to pounce and Alec caught his eye, shaking his head in a barely perceptible no. Robert's fingers loosened on Alec's shoulder and he slid several inches down the wall. He hadn't even known he'd been lifted off the ground. His shoulders hurt.

"You will not go back to that warlock," Robert said, a commandment said with no room left for argument. "You will sever all ties with him, and we will accept this as a mistake, an enchantment placed upon you by a powerful being. No one will think you the less after this. And we will deal with the warlock in our way."

"Or what?" Alec asked, his whole body vibrating with the force of the adrenaline. Jace had come to stand next to him and he was grateful for the solidness of his brother. "What if I go back to him. If I don't let you kill Magnus. What will you do?"

Robert's gaze was unreadable. "Then you are not my son. If you allow yourself to fall prey to this Downworlder's enchantment…"

Jace started forward, mouth opening, and even Izzy was beginning to argue in protest, but Alec didn't stay around to listen. He'd already walked out of the room.

**iv.**

They were walking through Central Park on a gloomy day in the middle of March when Magnus veered off the path to kneel next to a little boy who was crying. "What's the matter, kiddo? Are you lost?"

There was no other person in sight, and Alec shifted uncomfortably as the boy nodded, bursting into fresh sobs. He didn't mind children, but they always seemed to mind him. Even Max had cried every time he entered the room for the first year of his life.

Magnus didn't seem to have such an affliction. "Well, there's no reason to cry. Silly parents are always getting lost. Why don't we go look for them together?" He pulled a Werther's caramel out of the boy's ear, and Alec was thankful that this small bit of magic stopped the boy's tears instantly.

"See," Magnus said, "No reason to cry. My name is Magnus. What's your name, honey?"

"Oliver," the boy said, already opening the caramel. "Will you really help me find my mommy?"

Magnus nodded, standing up and holding out his hand. The boy took it readily. "I'm very good at finding lost mommies."

The boy seemed to accept this, then caught sight of Alec. "Who's _he_?"

"This is Alec. He's my friend."

Oliver waved at Alec, moving the caramel from one side of his mouth to the other. It made his cheek bulge. "My best friend's name is Alex, which is almost like Alec. But I don't know nobody named Magnus."

"There are very few of us," Magnus agreed as they started to stroll down the path. "What were you and your mommy doing today?"

"We were playing in the park. But she was busy with Morgan – she's my sister – and I wanted to catch the butterfly."

They rounded a corner. The children's play park was over the next hill. It was growing chilly and Alec shivered, wishing he'd taken Magnus's advice and put on the blue scarf he was always trying to get him to wear.

Of course, Magnus saw him shiver, and stopped walking. Oliver stopped too, looking up at them with wide eyes. "Sorry kiddo," Magnus said, never taking his eyes off of Alec, "My friend is a little chilly. Can I have my hand back to give him my coat?"

"Keep your coat," Alec muttered even as Oliver nodded amicably, watching as Magnus shrugged off a purple bedazzled monstrosity. The shirt he had under it was just as loudly gay as the jacket. If Alec put it on, they would look like quite the fabulous couple. He'd rather go cold.

"Thirty-eight degrees in a t-shirt is not a good time to argue fashion," Magnus said, rolling his eyes, "And you wouldn't be in this position if you had just listened to me."

Alec felt a familiar twinge of annoyance at Magnus's condescending tone, but didn't want to pick a fight in front of the wide-eyed boy. To set a good example, he put on the jacket and gave a grunt of thanks.

Magnus rolled his eyes and grabbed Oliver's hand again, twining his fingers in Alec's out of habit, and because Magnus seemed to exude an inner warmth and Alec was very cold, he allowed his hand to say, letting go of the annoyance he'd felt a moment ago.

He asked Oliver about his friend Alex, which set the kid chattering, his distress about being lost completely gone. Magnus smiled at him and Alec allowed himself to relax into this picture of two guys out with their young son. It was a strangely nice idea, even though Alec had never considered the idea of being a father.

The illusion was shattered by a high-pitched scream of "Oliver!"

All three looked up at the woman running towards them, pushing a stroller with a sleeping toddler in front of her. She abandoned the stroller ten feet away and ran forward, snatching Oliver out of Magnus's hand. "What were you thinking running away like that? Do you have any idea how scared I was? What -" he tone suddenly changed from relief to alarm and suspicion, "_What do you have in your mouth_?"

"A candy! The man gave it to me!" Oliver happily pointed at Magnus, and Alec felt a sinking in his gut as the mother fixed a death glare on them.

"You gave my child candy? What kind of sick f –" she covered Oliver's ears with her hands. "What kind of sick fuck are you?" she hissed, staring pointedly at Magnus's shirt, Alec's jacket, their clasped hands.

Alec jumped away from Magnus as if burned, "This must look bad, ma'am, but Oliver was crying and we were just trying to…"

"You don't give candy to another person's child. Ever." The mother's voice was so flat and harsh that Alec suddenly felt incredibly guilty about appeasing a distraught child.

"All due respect, ma'am," Magnus said, voice all chipper and polite, "But we were just trying to help."

The mother hugged Oliver to her chest, "Don't. We don't need help from _you_." Her gaze drifted over to Alec, and he was surprised to find the same frank disgust in her gaze as he'd seen in the man's in Istanbul. He thought it was a culture thing. He thought that New York was different. He thought he was safe here.

Magnus rolled his eyes, not noticing Alec's reaction, "Fine. Have a good day. 'Bye, Oliver."

"Bye!" Oliver said, wiggling his fingers even as his mother screamed, "You're lucky I don't call the police!"

Magnus walked quickly, grabbing Alec's hand and dragging him along at this fast pace. "Is a 'thank you' too much to ask for these days?" He said, "Honestly, what's the world coming to? I remember when people used to be grateful if their child was found safe and, you know, not crying." He glanced at Alec, "Any time you want to interject?"

"Maybe we were wrong to do that. Take the kid. Give him candy."

Magnus rolled his eyes, "By the angel," he swore, taking up Alec's swear, "We're not pedophiles. This isn't the 1960s. Excuse me for going on a walk with my boyfriend and finding your kid crying."

Alec shook his head, "No. We were wrong."

Magnus stopped walking and turned until he and Alec were face-to-face. He put a hand on Alec's chest. "Hey. I'm not apologizing for who I am. You don't have to, either."

Alec thought of his father, who hadn't talked to him in two months, of the Clave, who looked through him, of completely strangers who hated him on sight. "Maybe we were wrong," he said, quietly.

"Love is never wrong," Magnus said, and kissed him long and deep as a reminder.

**v.**

"He hasn't talked to me three months, Jace. I don't think this is just something he's going to get over."

Alec crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Jace who was leaning against the doorframe. They were in Magnus's apartment (which Alec was starting to think of as _his_ apartment.) Magnus was out, performing some kind of summoning spell for a faerie, and Alec had been trying to catch up on sleep when Jace barged in, saying he was in the neighborhood and needed something to eat. Somehow, they were talking about Robert Lightwood. Again.

"Well," Jace pointed out, "You did leave pretty spectacularly."

"He threatened Magnus!"

"Not in so many words," Jace held up his hands as Alec opened his mouth, "I'm just saying man. I mean…I remember three years ago. You dated Stephanie Starshaker. You guys seemed happy."

Alec shook his head. He'd almost managed to block those three months from his memory. "You were seeing that girl Uptown. I felt like I needed to keep up. But I wasn't into her."

"Well, I know that. But your dad – our dad – he's always been kind of in and out of the Institute, you know? And I bet he has a great selective memory. So he sees you with a girl. Then he sees you with a boy. An eight hundred year old Downworlder boy. What's he supposed to think?"

Alec just stared, "whose side are you on, Jace?"

Jace shrugged, snatching an apple off the counter and taking a messy bite. The room was quiet for a long minute, then, "I wonder what would he think if he knew all that time you had a crush on me?"

The glass Alec had been holding shattered as his grip got too tight, and Jace laughed. "What the hell, Jace?" Alec said, his voice shaking. "What's the matter with you?"

"Oh come on, tell the truth. Do you still think about me? That way? Now? Every time you're with Magnus, do you think about me?"

Alec felt disoriented. He didn't even feel the blood dripping down his hand, didn't feel the piece of glass, embedded in the fleshy part of his thumb. "Get out. I mean it Jace. Maybe you're tired or…whatever. Just get out."

But Jace just shook his head, "You do, don't you?" He took a step forward, letting the apple roll across the counter. It was perfect and red, like the one that had poisoned a princess, like the one that had caused that first terrible sin, "You're still in love with me." This was a statement.

And Alec shook his head, "No. Not for a long time. I love Magnus." He'd never said those words out loud, and had never thought the first time he'd say them would be to Jace, but even now he felt a kind of rush at the sound of the words, and repeated them, "I love him."

Jace snorted, "Yeah, right." Then he lunged, pressing his lips against Alec's.

His lips were dry and cold and brittle and dead.

Alec lashed out, punching the not-Jace in the kidneys, the ribs. But this thing was strong. It spun and kicked Alec in the head, then grabbed Alec's hand and dragged the already embedded glass until it sliced across his palm. Then not-Jace pulled out the glass and drove it into Alec's stomach.

Alec howled, flailing his hand for his bow, which was just a few feet away. Not-Jace stomped on his wrist, snapping it in two, and Alec rolled to duck another stomp aimed for his head. Instead of the boy he grabbed the knife and turned just as not-Jace lunged again. The knife plunged through his chest.

The sound the thing made was not a Jace sound at all, but that didn't stop Alec from feeling a deep pain at the sight of his _parabatai_ dying in his arms. Not-Jace blinked at him, then smiled sweetly. A heartbeat later, a dying Jace was a dying Magnus.

"You're still in love with Jace," Magnus said, in that quiet, hurt way Magnus sounded whenever they talked about his brother too much. "I saw you kissing him."

Alec could only gape at the thing. He knew, somewhere in his logical mind, that this was a shape-shifting demon, but most of his mind could only register that Magnus, who was supposed to live forever, was dying, and in his dying breath he was accusing Alec of something that had once been true but was now completely wrong. He didn't love Jace. Not at all. Not anymore.

"No…no, Magnus. It's you. It'll always be you."

Magnus's eyes slid towards the wall and he took a deep, dying gasp. "I hate you."

Then he died.

An hour later, Magnus walked up the stairs, past the couple on the landing below in the middle of their tumultuous love affair. It had been a long day, and he hoped Alec was home. He hoped Alec was wearing that blue sweater he'd been wearing this morning, the soft v-neck that made him look especially young and cuddly.

Magnus opened the door to a pool of blood, and his head stopped. "Alec?" The call echoed down the empty hallway. He should go investigate. He could not stop staring at the blood.

Then there was a sound, soft, a sob, and Magnus _flew_ down the hall to see his boyfriend on the floor, beaten, broken, bleeding, curling around a dead Magnus.

The live Magnus took a step back, but eight hundred years was enough time to have seen most demon ploys a few dozen times. They were wildly uninventive. A shape-shifter, then. "Alec?" He said, already kneeling, trying to ascertain how much of the blood belonged to the teen. "Love, where are you hurt?"

Alec turned to him, his gaze unfocused, his expression pleading. "I didn't want to kiss Jace," Alec said, the words tumbling off his lips in a jumble of sounds, "I didn't want – I love you, Magnus. Please don't die."

"I won't," Magnus assured him, putting pressure on a knife cut across Alec's belly. "Stay awake, love."

"I didn't want to kiss him," Alec said, eyelids fluttering, "Don't leave me. Please."

Alec went limp, and Magnus caught him, screaming his name over and over as blood poured out over the kitchen floor.

**.***.**

**the end.**

**maybe. if you guys want to see it continued, drop us a line, send in an idea about one of those million paper cuts alec was talking about. if you guys want to see us write it, we'll continue.**

**in the meantime, have fun trying to figure out why two twenty year old boys would read this series (hint: persuasive girl friends) and write about this particular couple (hint: gay best friends.) peace and prosperity, guys. **


	2. Chapter 2

_"I didn't call you because I'm tired of you only wanting me around when you need something. I'm tired of watching you be in love with someone else - someone, incidentally, who will never love you back. Not the way I do." **Magnus Bane, City of Glass**_

.***.

**vi.**

Jace jolted awake to see Alec's bright blue eyes staring at him. His _parabatai _was insecure about his appearance, anyone could see that, but while the rest of Alec seemed to quietly blend into the background, his eyes—large, sapphire, intelligent, and, when looking at Jace, full of unapologetic love—were anything but ordinary.

Those eyes were not looking at him with kindness now. Jace shuddered, leaned back on the chair where he'd fallen asleep after Magnus had called him in a panic, saying Alec was hurt and he didn't have the herbs to care for him and Jace needed to be there _now_. "Alec? How are you feeling?"

His brother's voice was a croak, hoarse, but the words were very clear, "I don't love you."

Jace flashed a grin even as his heart sped up at those words. He'd had nightmares of Clary telling him the same thing, of Izzy and Maryse denouncing him, but never Alec. He depended on Alec. "That's okay. You're not my favorite person right now, either. You scared the shit out of me, man. Scared Magnus, too. We should call him."

"Magnus died," Alec said sharply, "And he hated me. Because he saw you kissing me."

Jace felt disoriented. He didn't even know where to start. "Magnus is _fine_. He just left for a quick minute—needs more newt eyes or something. But he'd dine. And I didn't kiss you, Alec. But if I ever stop being straight you'll be the first to know, I promise."

For the first time Alec looked confused. His hands fisted the bed spread. "No. You kissed me. You hurt me. And then Magnus said he hated me."

"It was a bad dream," Jace said, wishing with all his heart that he'd extracted more details from Magnus before the warlock ran out the door. "I'd never hurt you, Alec, you know that. _Parabatai_, remember? I have your back and you have mine."

Alec touched his chest, and it was only then that Jace realized his brother was bleeding through his bandages. The only thing that Magnus had said before he left was to draw and _iratze_, but that obviously wasn't holding up. "By the Angel!" Jace swore, lunching for Alec's chest to try to put pressure on the bleeding.

When he touched Alec, the older boy recoiled, "No!" With uncommon strength, Alec struck his fist towards Jace's chest, driving the breath from his lungs. "Get away from me!"

Jace coughed, pushing himself to his knees. "You're hurt. Let me-"

"Let me," Magnus pushed by him and put a hand behind Alec's head, using his body to force Alec back on the bed. "Oh love, please stay still. You're so hurt."

"Magnus?" Alec's voice was tiny and lost and hopeful and that one word broke Jace's heart, "Magnus, don't leave me."

"I'm sorry, I needed kingsfoil."

"I'm sorry," Alec croaked, barely glancing at the plant in Magnus's hand. "I don't love him. I love you."

"I know. Darling, please, you're bleeding."

"Jace—I didn't want to. He made me."

Jace felt sick and turned away from his _parabatai_ and the warlock. What nightmare was Alec having? How, even his dreams, could Alec ever think that Jace wouldn't die before hurting him?

Magnus glanced at the blond Shadowhunter shaking in the corner. "It was a shape-shifter. You did so well. You killed him before I got home. You are so brave."

"I killed you," Alec said, shaking his head, "Didn't I?"

"Oh. Baby." Jace looked away. He wanted to leave the room. Magnus looked so young when he cried, like he was actually a teenager. "Let me make you something. You'll feel better."

"Don't leave me."

"Never." Magnus kissed Alec's forehead, his cheek, his lips, quickly, gently, "Let Jace give you another _iratze_, okay? And then you'll feel so much better."

"I don't want Jace."

Jace felt all the loneliness and pain from his first decade of life bubble up at those words. "Alec—please. It wasn't me it was a shape-shifter that took you out, even though you'd already nailed him. Why are you always so badass when I'm not around?"

Alec finally looked at him, and while it wasn't his old, loving look, at least this one didn't contain fear or loathing. There was just acceptance. "Your _iratzes_ suck."

"Magnus will fix you up good."

Alec focused on the warlock, and Jace traced the _iratze_ very carefully so he wouldn't have to look at the love that poured from that familiar blue gaze. It was the same look Alec would bestow on Jace every day for the first five years he lived at the Institute.

He couldn't bear to look up in those eyes and confirm he'd been replaced.

**vii.**

He was so shy over his own body. Covering up after sex and showers, wearing long-sleeved sweaters and long pants. "You'd wear a ski mask if it wouldn't make you look like you were up to no good," Magnus accused him one day when he was getting dressed.

Alec looked down at his clothes. "I thought you liked the blue sweater."

"It's nearly seventy degrees out!" Magnus said indignantly, "There will be time for layers later." He himself was wearing outrageously tight pants and a bright orange tank top. He'd spent the last night on his back while Alec inked his back with henna to make it look like Shadowhunter marks.

Looking at him now, Alec had to admit that Magnus was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. "You do know that mundane will be able to see those marks?"

"That's the whole point," Magnus said, holding out his arm, "And now we match."

Alec stuck out his arm, covered as it was with the blue sleeve of the sweater, and Magnus sighed dramatically. "You would have done very well in the Victorian era."

"You would know."

"Vests were very in," Magnus said, getting that far-away look in his cats eyes that made Alec know he probably had time to put on a pot of coffee before anything actually got done. "I was in London, you know."

"With Will," Alec said, "yeah, you might have mentioned."

Magnus's smile flickered sadly. "He did look an awful lot like you. He died far too young."

"How old is too young?"

"A hundred would be too young for me," Magnus reached out to grab Alec's shoulders, "Promise me you'll live forever."

"I'm doing my absolute best."

"You are not!" Magnus ran his hand over Alec's forehead. There was a rather large _iratze _on his cheek, courtesy of Izzy, who'd inked one there last night after a lesser demon threw a chair at his face. Magnus sighed and reached down to try to tug the sweater off.

Alec kept his arms pinned at his side, and even warlock strength was no match for Nephilim. "No. Magnus, we don't have time. I thought you wanted to have a picnic with the ducks."

"The ducks will wait. They're terribly rude creatures, anyway." Magnus tugged again at the sweater, determined to find what lay beneath. "Come on, love, it's so warm in here. Just between the two of us."

"Chairman Meow is sitting on the bed," Alec pointed out stubbornly. "And I see you're not joining me in this nudity."

He should have known. Magnus immediately ripped off his shirt. The henna marks slithered across his chest, and Alec wondered if Magnus knew how to read them, if his boyfriend knew that Alec had carved _love_ over every inch of his skin. "You're so beautiful," Magnus wheedled, going for the neck of the sweater again. "You shouldn't hide it away."

"I am not."

"You are not what?" Magnus said, distracted. He'd just revealed a shoulder.

"Beautiful. In any way. Magnus, can we just go? I like ducks. I do not find them rude."

Magnus paused, and Alec took the moment to straighten his clothes. "Why don't you ever believe you're beautiful?" Magnus asked, "And this is a very serious matter, my young Shadowhunter. Because either someone has been lying to you or you're lying to yourself."

Alec shrugged, "I don't know. Everyone knows it. I'm…plain, and mousy, and boring. My hair is a boring color, and my taste is clothes is horrible. I'm not gorgeous, like Jace, or confident like Izzy. I'm _homely_." Alec looked down at his body, and added, "I'm too thin, too. I never could bulk up right. Not like-"

"Jace," Magnus searched Alec's face for something, "Did he tell you these things about yourself?"

"No!" Alec said.

"A second ago you couldn't remember who said what. Now you know Jace didn't ever comment on your appearance."

"Jace doesn't care," Alec said firmly. "We're _parabatai_. He's the only one I know doesn't care. Everyone else though…all the other boys."

"What other boys?" Magnus touched Alec's neck, his wrist, the tips of his hair.

"Shadowhunters. People who look at Jace or you when we enter a room and never remember I was there. The men and women and creatures who flirt with you at parties while I stand by the side." At Magnus's horrified look Alec started for the door. "I've never been the most beautiful person in the room, Magnus. You should be grateful to Jace. He prepared me for being with you."

"I never wanted you to feel inferior," Magnus said. "You're not! Your skin is wonderfully smooth."

"It has marks all over it. And scars, where the _iratzes_ didn't take."

"It has character," Magnus said firmly. "And your hair is thick and smooth and curls when it gets wet. You're dark and light put together. You're exquisite."

"You're overdoing it," Alec said, smiling a little. And Magnus realized that Alec thought this was a joke. Alec really, truly did not think of himself as someone anyone would desire. "We're going to disappoint the ducks. Don't forget the bread we had leftover form last night."

Magnus's hands sparked with red and blue light, the colors he always produced when he was too frustrated for words. "I really love you," Magnus said, desperate now.

Alec's eyes softened, and he looked like he almost believed it. "Sometimes you make me feel like I could almost be beautiful," Alec said, "and I love you for that."

But Magnus was an exotic beauty, and Jace was an extraordinary beauty, and Alec would always be second best.

**viii.**

The art store was the place Alec had felt most at home in the city. He loved feeling the thick paper, looking at the bright palates, imagining something beautiful blossoming across a blank canvass.

It was one of the last things he shared with Magnus, and he was hesitant about it. This, more than anything, would mean that they were inexorably linked. It was giving up his one last secret place. His last alone space, and Alec decided to handle the situation by pretending it wasn't a momentous occasion at all.

"Are you kidding?" Magnus was literally skipping next to Alec as they walked down the street. "Do you know how many art places I've been, trying to find your little haunt?"

"You must not be a very good detective."

Magnus huffed, "You like dingy little alleyways, and I get impatient. Be grateful I didn't stoop to putting a tracking spell on you."

A smile threatened to tug up the corners of Alec's lips, and he suppressed it. "That must have taken great restraint."

"Since you seem to be perfectly capable of getting yourself killed in our own home-" Magnus broke off when he realized they were dangerously close to the shape-shifter incident. It had been three weeks, and as far as Magnus knew, Alec hadn't spoken to Jace again. They even hunted separately.

Alec froze at Magnus's words, too, but his mind was stuck on the word "our."

Very obviously changing the subject, Magnus said, "And this is the store owned by that woman you'll leave me for."

" is my mentor and my friend," Alex said, rolling his eyes, "And she's older than my mother."

"Let's not start being particular about age."

"You just don't like being reminded that you're absolutely ancient," Alec shouldered open the door to _Oz and Ends_, the eclectic art store that indeed was in a bleak alley. "Be nice."

"I'm a constant delight," Magnus protested, straightening his shirt, which was an alarming shade of green, and raising an eyebrow. The eyebrow had a hoop in it, and was speckled with glitter.

"You know that glitter is the STD of the art world," Alec muttered, grinning at Mrs. Ginny. "It makes an indiscriminate mess."

Magnus ignored this. He was already striding towards the warm, motherly woman at the front of the store. "Mrs. Ginny! Alec has told me so much about you." He thrust out his hand, and Alex rolled his eyes again when he saw blue sparks fly out of it. Magnus couldn't help but show off, even for mundanes who couldn't see his show.

Mrs. Ginny looked alarmed, though, Alec supposed, that was probably the green. The store owner had very concrete ideas about color. "Don't mind him," Alec called, seeing Mrs. Ginny's hesitation in grabbing his boyfriend's hand, "He's just a homeless guy who followed me in off the street."

Magnus sent sparks flying in Alec's direction and he laughed, picking up a notebook of wonderfully heavy drawing paper, exactly what he needed. He walked to the front with it as Magnus turned back to Mrs. Ginny. "Alec is attempting to be funny. I apologize. I'm his boyfriend. It's enchanting to finally make your acquaintance."

The woman ignored Magnus's proffered hand and cleared her throat, glancing at Alec. "There's a new art store on Broadway. That has to be easier than getting all the way over here."

"Tourist trap, Mrs. G," Alec said, smiling at her. He didn't have Jace's charm or Magnus's magnetism, but he was told that when he smiled he looked haplessly adorable. "I prefer visiting you."

Mrs. Ginny looked between Alec, in his usual black ensemble, and Magnus, glowing with color, and blanched, "It really is more convenient. Broadway. No need for you to come down here."

Alec's grin slipped. "Mrs. G, is there a problem?" He'd been coming to his store since he was very little, since before Jace came, since before Max was born. Mrs. Ginny would offer his weak tea and warm cookies, and on rainy slow days she'd take out a sketch book and show him how art had to be more than a bunch of lines and angles.

That same woman was looking at him as if he were a stranger. Worse—usually you afford strangers dull, polite curiosity. She looked revolted at the sight of him. "Please don't make me ask you to leave Alec. I don't want any trouble. I just don't need your business anymore."

Alec's face burned with shame, though he still didn't know what he had to be embarrassed about. It was Magnus who spoke next, his voice uncharacteristically cool. "That's a nice sign, ma'am."

Following his boyfriend's gaze, Alex saw the picket sign leaning against the wall. KEEP MARRIAGE SACRED.

"It's not personal," Mrs. Ginny said, turning away. "You can have that book, Alec."

"It's not personal," Magnus repeated, his voice dangerously quiet, "You just think we're abominations."

Mrs. Ginny didn't respond. Alec, who'd been on his feet for two weeks and had thought the shape-shifter was behind him, felt suddenly sick. The beautiful book slipped from his fingers and splayed open on the floor like a dead thing.

Magnus was still speaking. "I might be an abomination, ma'am. I've made my peace with that. But you are surely committing a sin if you kick this _angel _out of your store."

"Magnus," Alec pleased. He didn't want to stay any longer, not with Mrs. Ginny suddenly looking at him as if a decade of cozy companionship no longer mattered because he was hopelessly devoted to a boy.

And, because Magnus loved him back, they left.

Out on the street, Alec slipped his hand into Magnus's dark one. "You're shaking."

"That's you, darling," Magnus corrected, glancing over his shoulder. "I actually lived through persecution, you know. There were sodomy laws. There were lynching's. There was systematic slaughter if you were loving the wrong person at the wrong time. I thought people were finally changing."

"People never change," Alec said, tripping down the street, still stinging from the betrayal, "Not in any way that matters."

"You changed me," Magnus said, sounding somehow young and anxious. "I like to think that matters."

**xi.**

They were telling stories to pass the night away. This was before Jace and Alec were to go out on patrol. After Izzy and Simon got back. There was a group of them sitting, nearly sleeping, in the living room of the High Warlock of Brooklyn, which was smaller than the smallest room in the Institute but somehow much preferable. Izzy was falling asleep in Simon's lap after teasing Simon about his worst date ever story.

"You were just disappointed you weren't a difficult date," Jace said, unlocking his lips from Clary's long enough to speak.

"Damn straight," Izzy said, dropping her head back on Simon's shoulder, her eyes already at half-mast. "But let's keep going. This is going to be the best night's sleep I've had in a while. Especially if Alec goes next."

"She's implying you're boring," Jace said, mouth curving into a smile.

Magnus wound his hand in Alec's hair, and the sensation was so nice, and it was so good to see Jace in a good mood, that Alec obliged to keep the quiet conversation going. "Stephanie Starshaker, last year. We went to Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas lights."

"That's adorable," Simon said, "Did you go skating too?" At Alec's silence Simon whooped, "You did not! How cliché is that?"

"I was fifteen! All I knew about girls is what I got from Izzy's horrible rom-coms and this guy," he gestured at Jace, who was trying to eat Clary's face again. "Obviously it was not Jace I was listening to. Anyway, it wasn't until we got on the ice that I realized she couldn't skate very well."

"I thought all Shadowhunters have amazing balance?" Clary said, coming up for air. When Jace tried to attack her lips again she put her hand up, "I'm actually listening to this."

Alec nodded at Clary, "We do have good natural abilities, but Stephanie had this phobia of ice. So we got out there, and she immediately falls over."

"You got to play knight in shining armor?" Simon said skeptically, "you know this is supposed to be about bad dates, right?"

"Oh, it gets better," Jace assured him.

Alec groaned and leaned back into Magnus's touch. "I didn't see her fall, so I just…kept skating. It wasn't until I heard the crunch that I realized I severed her finger."

"You _what?" _This from Clary, Simon, and Magnus. The children of the Institute cackled.

Blushing furiously, Alec turned into Magnus's shoulder, "to be fair, I gave her really, really pretty _iratzes_ to make up for it."

"And mom still doesn't know why the Starshakers don't come over for Sunday dinner," Izzy said, dropping back against Simon's arm. "I guess that just leaves Magnus. Eight centuries worth of bad dates. You can probably tell stories for hours."

"Longer than that," Magnus purred, "there was the incident with the Persian boy who turned out to be having an affair with Alexander the Great—who is not Great at all things, incidentally. And then there was Fredrick William in Prussia. I was going through a soldier boy phase, you see. This was before the Accords, so Shadowhunters were not on the table. And then Catherine the Great, in Russia…"

Alec sighed loudly, "Will you stop name dropping? Do you even have a serious story?"

He could feel Magnus tense, and then the hand dropped from his hair. With a snap of Magnus's fingers the lights in the apartment went out, and when he lifted his hand, the palm glowed with white sparkling light. "Fine. A serious story, then. It didn't even happen long ago. Not nearly long enough ago. Seventy-two years ago, I lived in a small house in Poland."

"1941," Clary supplied helpfully. Everyone else shushed her.

"There was a boy who lived with me. A young man, actually. He had dark hair, and played piano beautifully, and was scared to death of our relationship. Everyone we knew who'd leaned towards an…alternative lifestyle…had disappeared from Poland. I told him no one would ever find us. He knew only a very little about magic, and didn't quite trust me. He played piano in the lobby of a fine hotel on the border of Germany, and they came for him one night after he played for a group of SS officers. They came for me, too."

He fell quiet and stared at the fire, while the Shadowhunters tried to remember everything they could from their spotty lessons in mundane history. Clary drew in a breath and glanced at Simon, who was staring out the window, thinking of the yellow stars his great-grandmother still had embroidered on some of her clothes.

"I could have gotten away. It would have been more than simple. I even could have taken this wonderfully talented piano player with me. But I didn't. I was seven hundred and sixteen years old and felt like I was finally going to get what I deserved for centuries of pursuing love indiscriminately. And it would have been cowardly to leave, when so many others had to stay."

"Which camp were you in?" Simon asked, his voice very loud in the dark room.

Magnus was staring at the bright light in his hand. "Dachau."

Simon leaned forward, nearly toppling Izzy off his lap. "My family…they were there, too."

"They burned," Magnus said, snapping his fingers shut and extinguishing the only light in the room. For a moment, before their eyes could adjust to the city-lights coming in through the window, it seemed like darkness was the only thing that existed, that ever had been. "Everyone did."

"You didn't," Alec fumbled in the darkness and pressed his lips against Magnus's ear, eye, lips. "You're still here."

Magnus didn't give the light back, and he drew away from the kiss. "Maybe I shouldn't be."

**x.**

It was raining for the ninth straight day, and Alec was still grinning over the fact that Magnus had a cold.

"Id nod funny," Magnus proclaimed from under a pile of blankets. Chairman Meow purred on the summit, his rising and the falling the only inclination that the warlock still thought breathing was worth his time. "I habn't been sick since—_ahCHOO!—_Florence."

"When was that?" Alec asked, stirring the pot of chicken soup, "the stone age?"

"Renaissance," Magnus corrected irritably. His head, topped with purple hair that stuck out at strange angles, rose over the top of the blankets. "If you go to the Palazzo Vecchio there are seberal statues thad look like me."

"Really?" Alec asked, "You'll have to show me next time we go to Europe."

"I'm nod going back to Europe," Magnus said, retreating again, "I'm dying."

"You could have said something before I went down to the bakery and got a whole loaf of good rye bread. I'll have to eat it myself."

Magnus made a noise and Alec, who'd just picked up his phone, grinned fondly at the pile of blankets. "What was that?"

"Don't make fun ob me. I'm sick."

Alec laughed, sliding his finger along the phone that had just buzzed Jace's face. As always, he smiled at the picture of Jace. It was two years old now, taken when they were sitting on a stakeout and Alec, looking at his companion, started making up a story of brooking Batman looking over Gotham. He'd taken the picture just as Jace stuck his tongue out, and had gone to great lengths to keep it from getting deleted.

For five minutes the only sounds were the rain beating against the windowpane, Chairman Meow's steady purring, and Alec's soft tapping of his phone."Who you tebsting?" Magnus murmured sleepily, head once again coming up from below the blankets.

"Jace. Go to sleep, you're exhausted."

"Am not," Magnus said petulantly, raising his head up further, "why are you talking to Jace?"

Alec tried to be amused rather than irritated. "Do you realize how jealous you get when you're not feeling well?"

"I'm nob jealous," Magnus muttered.

"I should be the one who's jealous," Alec pointed out, texting with one hand and stirring soup with the other, "Did you really have an affair with Michelangelo?"

"We're not gebbing off tobic to talk about Medici scandals," Magnus said firmly, "I jusb wanna know why you hab to talk to him!"

"I'm going to put the two of you in a room," Alec said, going by amused and getting, finally, at irritated, "and you guys can just punch each other and then buy beers. Isn't that how men are supposed to resolve issues?"

Magnus rolled over and Chairman Meow bounced off his perch with a hiss. "I wouldn't know! I'm nob a man!"

"Well neither am I!" Alec shouted. He never shouted, and the action and sound of it was so freeing he continued. "I'm Nephilim! You're a warlock! And I'm just eighteen! You tell me what we're supposed to be acting like!"

"You're acting the child," Magnus said scathingly, and this would have come out better if he didn't hack a cough in the middle. When he did, his hair smoldered and sparks shot from his hands. Magnus clenched them into fists. "I'm going to bed. I hate the rain."

But Alec knew Magnus didn't mean that. He'd said, so many times, that rain was his favorite thing ever, after furry animals, Middle Eastern drinks, and Alec's blue sweater. Alec put down the phone even as it vibrated again. Jace was asking him to go on patrol tonight, telling him about Clary, about Church, about Simon, even. Since the shape-shifter, he'd rarely seen his _parabatai_, but Jace seemed eager to be in contact with him, even clingy.

Knowing that it was a childish thing to do and not caring because in this room even Chairman Meow was probably older than him, Alec talked to the soup, "I hate it when you leave angry."

"I'm nob angry. As you pointed oub, I'm tired." But Magnus couldn't resist a parting shot. He'd outgrown his temper around the Industrial Revolution, adopting a smooth granite exterior that nothing could penetrate, but something about being with Alec brought out the child in him. "Michelangelo was quite curious, you know. Innovative."

Alec swore and tossed phone and ladle to the side. "Fine! I haven't had a million exploits with the who's who of history! And I don't have anything going on with Jace!"

"I know thad," Magnus said, waving a long-fingered hand as if the very idea of Alec sleeping with anyone else was laughable. That, more than anything, made Alec slip out from behind the counter and touch his stele. He never would draw it, not in a petty fight brought on by fevers, cabin and otherwise, but it was nice to know it was there. "But you want to."

Alec was holding the stele before he even registered it as a conscious thought. It was just so much what the shape-shifter had said before it pressed itself against him, those dead dry lips against his. And so the descendant of an Angel pointed a thin knife at a half-demon creature, breathing heavily with memory of a different demon in this very room, of the lies and whispers and blood that had spilled that night.

It was just bad timing. Just stupid, bad timing, that when Magnus's hands flew up automatically to appease Alec, he sneezed. He'd been doing it all week, convulsing and letting off a mini fireworks display with his magic, and it had always been laughable. With that jerk, that momentary loss of control, brilliant bright light shot out of his hands and pieced Alec's chest.

Stumbling backwards, Alec put a hand to his chest. There was no hole there, as the pain led him to believe. He looked down at the now-muddled and charred marks that scrawled their way down his neck, shoulders, chest, and saw a long burn mark that went through his shirt to his breastbone.

"Alec."

He looked up at Magnus's stunned, horrified expression, and automatically fell into that roll he'd adopted years ago, the peacemaker. "It's okay, Magnus," he said quietly, "I know you didn't mean to."

And he did know that, so why did his the back of his eyes sting? He looked away and choked. There were tears stuck in his throat, too.

"Oh darling," Magus's hand ghosted feather-light over the burn for a second, and then he pressed a little harder, drew the pain away from Alec, into himself. "I didn't…I would never hurt you on purpose."

That's what Jace said. That's what that thing wearing both of their faces had claimed, before the fight, before anything happened. And Alec nodded, swallowing the sentiment again. "I shouldn't have drawn my stele. I don't know…I wouldn't have done anything."

"I know," Magnus pressed the stele into his hand. "Can you redraw your marks? They're a little mushed now."

Normally he could with ease. Drawing marks came naturally to every Shadowhunter, the language of shapes as easy to understand as their native tongues. But now he felt tired, so tired of being scrutinized by Magnus's peculiarly sad gaze. "It's all right," Alec reiterated, not quite meeting those eyes, "Jace will do it later."

Magnus looked at Alec, and then leaned against him, hugging him in a way that was both gentle and fierce. "I love that you have a _parabatai_ to die for you," Magnus said, his lips in Alec's ear, "I just hate thinking about the fact that the deal goes the other way, too."

**.***.**

**thanks to those who reviewed the first chapter. these things just trickle in one at a time, and when we have enough to bundle into a chapter we'll post them. if you guys have any ideas send them along. until then, everyone go make fun of the movie and we'll meet back here. ready, set, break.**

**peace and prosperity, all.**


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